


Undestined

by HanaritsuKrizza



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Amerimano, Domestic Fluff, Drabbles, Established Relationship, Humor, M/M, Omegaverse, Romance, Romerica
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-18 16:27:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15489963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HanaritsuKrizza/pseuds/HanaritsuKrizza
Summary: An alpha and an omega can be bound by pheromones-induced destiny, but an alpha and another alpha can be bound by deep-seated trust, overflowing affection and never-ending love. [Romerica Omegaverse Excerpts]





	Undestined

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Hetalia.

 

**...**

* * *

_As I look into your eyes_

* * *

 

"Sometimes, you act too much like an omega."

Romano frowns, quirks one dark brow and tries not to get overwhelmed by the intensity of the dazzling blue eyes that are staring back at him. He opts against responding to the words and deliberates on how to counter them instead.

With his fingers, he traces abstract patterns on the pale skin as he watches America's smug grin shifts to something akin to a snicker but more lascivious. There's that familiar spark of challenge and mirth coated with renowned desire. He brings his other hand - his skilled, wonderfully versed hand - to do its venture and suddenly, the room is being filled with salacious and wanton moans that Romano greedily drinks in.

He looks at the man writhing underneath him and takes pleasure at what he sees—gorgeous, alluring, and so very delectable.

"Who's acting like an omega now?"

America lets go of the lip that he's been harshly biting and regards Romano with an unfocused gaze. "Fuck you," he says playfully, breathing shallow puffs of air.

Romano smirks and shakes his head the slightest bit, "It's the other way around,  _caro._ "

 

* * *

_I see an angel in disguise_

* * *

 

"...and that sums up my presentation for today." America, the superpower, grins while standing still at the podium. He eyes every nation with restrained excitement until it lands to Romano. "But before the hero goes, I'd like to take this opportunity to say something very important."

Romano blanches.

"To Romano, " he pauses dramatically, earning the attention of everyone in the room as several pairs of eyes send Romano amused glimpses before looking back at the person behind the microphone, "Happy silver anniversary, hon!  _Sei l'unico per me._  I love you!"

The instantaneous back flip his heart rudely makes deters him from feeling spiteful for being put on the spot. While cheers and acclamations are being thrown at them, America is still wearing his hearty smiles and Romano is in the midst of face-palming himself.

"What a cute alpha pair," a nation says and Romano can only provide him a devitalized glare as his full-blown blush begets it to look non-threatening at all.

The meeting that's supposed to proceed for another hour comes to an abrupt end when the next nation to speak refuses to make a start as he, along with the rest, eagerly pesters America - or dares and pathetically fails to converse with Romano - about the secret of their long-lasting relationship.

Romano can't blame them, though, for inasmuch as every nation is an alpha, a natural born leader, America and Romano aren't the first and only one who have attempted to date their kind. But so far as history goes, only the two of them have succeeded to endure this long and remain strongly beating. So as a winner in life, he can only take pity for their fruitless love.

 

* * *

_Sent from God above_

* * *

 

Romano is in the cellar of his old house when he smells the primary scent that has become so familiar to him. America has arrived.

When he comes closer to greet him, however, a faint yet unmistakably sugary scent assaults his nose and makes him stop at a stone's throw away. "Is  _that_  from you?"

America totally freaks out.

"Listen, let me explain, okay? There's a logical explanation for this, I just need you to listen." Romano never intends to not listen. "Okay, now this is what happened, I swear to God it was an accident, so on the way here I saw a woman doubling over herself on an alleyway and you know me, my hero instincts react faster than my alpha instincts, so as a mighty hero, I just can't leave her alone after seeing her obviously in pain, that's simply atrocious," he breathes. "So anyway, when I came to help her, I didn't know, I swear Romano, I didn't realize she was in heat, my God, I came closer to her, I didn't know she was in heat and when she probably scented that I'm an alpha, her omega instincts drove her to come to me. But believe me, nothing happened, okay? It was just that, and then I called for another help and it came, thankfully, fast. And then her scent lingered on me... Romano, I swear it was an accident."

Romano doesn't move closer to him, the scent of an omega in heat sickens him a little, but he speaks the judgement that America is so anxiously waiting. "I know, bastard, I believe you."  _I trust you._

America's sensuous sigh of relief is followed by an unfeigned smile, but he knows not to come closer to Romano until he completely washes off the unwelcome scent of another person.

 

* * *

_For me to love_

* * *

 

" _Fratello_ , can I paint America?"

Romano sends Veneziano a look that's partly intimidating and partly inquiring. His stupid little brother isn't even looking at him, he's busy illustrating the landscape with his paintbrush.

"I've always wanted to paint him, ve~"

Romano feels torn in between agreeing and not. Veneziano has an unbelievable ability to uncover and visualize his muse's true beauty in the most artistic way possible, and he'll be lying if he says he doesn't want to see America on his stupid little brother's canvass. Oh, he does; he's intrigued, very much so.

But at the same time, Romano registers as his possessive alpha instincts kick in that someone other than him - even though it's his own brother - will look at  _his_  America imaginatively. Moreover, Veneziano likes to be so detailed when it comes to painting a portrait, so chances are, he'll examine every elaborate part of his face and see the graceful splendor that's being disguised by his childish radiance.

It truthfully doesn't sit well with him.

Romano chooses not to answer, but when Veneziano's gaze meets his, the latter finds an answer that even Romano isn't certain about.

"Ve~ it's okay if you don't want to,  _fratello_."

 

* * *

_To hold and idolize_

* * *

 

Romano doesn't like being in the presence of an omega. He did before, long time ago. He has had this experience where he once had an omega and it had - still has - terrified him that he can lose control because of something like pheromones. He's never been a strong kind of alpha who has a lot of temperance and restraint when it comes to his instincts. Sometimes, he simply can't hold himself back from the pull.

And an omega's pull no less is robust and powerful for an alpha. That's basically the nature of the their dynamic.

He doesn't like how his desire can be heightened automatically but not entirely approvingly with a mere scent; he doesn't like how his brain and body responds and reacts to an omega just because his intuition is screaming for him to do so.

Romano likes to use feelings, sentiments and emotions, he likes to use his heart.

With America, that's exactly how it is. There's no pull and no beastly instincts, only pure love.

 

* * *

_And as I hold your body near_

* * *

 

America is giggling, his mischievous eyes focused on Romano's own frisky ones. Their limbs are a tangled mess as they sit on their favorite couch, a soft charcoal Knole made from Tribly fabrics, and hold on each other for the dear life.

It's just one of their silly games of who can hold himself back better even with all the temptation practically laid out in plain sight. One of them will do something bordering from casual to sensual - anything except the classic and traditional form of kissing - and the other shouldn't react or he'll lose.

Their close proximity is very relaxing, even though one or two of his toes are numb by now. The smell of fresh forest with a hint of coffee and vanilla that's America's very own natural scent is vigorous and very well-received. What Romano likes even more about it is that whenever they are intimate, the fragrant scent of vanilla tends to get stronger, like it is getting now. (Sometimes, Romano calls America _marshmallow_  because of the saccharine scent and soft, white skin of his.)

It's been an even match so far, Romano's urge is substantial but still subdued and he's quite confident that America is the same. Until a flicker of deviltry flashes through America's eyes as he points the tip of his tongue on Romano's lower lip and licks it upwardly to his philtrum.

"Bastard," Romano curses, his cheeks flaming because of the unexpectedly suggestive impression of the attack.

"Do I win?" America asks and Romano wipes his triumphant smile away with a searing kiss.

America - 33, Romano - 32.

 

* * *

_I'll see this month through to a year_

* * *

 

"...he's dead."

With tears unconsciously welling on his eyes, Romano's chest constricts as he intently listens to the voice and waits for it to conclude everything as a joke.

But the line never comes.

Beside him, America is already shedding stream of sad tears, his weight pressing comfortably against his side and the warmth of their bodies mingling together to envelop them in an invisible embrace. He squeezes his hand as a silent reminder that they are on this together. America appreciates it and squeezes back while a sob escapes his lips.

When Romano finds that no one else apart from him isn't crying, he allows a single tear to roll down his eyes and hastily wipes it with his free hand.

It's at times like this that their actions and mere presence speak for themselves. Romano feels consoled and America feels comforted, regardless of whether there are or there are no words spoken.

They stay like that for a lamentable moment before America's cries wane down and Romano doesn't feel like he'll choke a sob anymore. And when the credits roll, America stretches his limbs and sniffs, "That was a good one."

Romano silently agrees and goes to find tissues. He unfastens the curtains to let the sun in and unbolts the lock of the door. They don't normally lock the door but this time, it's a safety precaution to keep anyone from snooping around.

They both feel it's greatly necessary for their previous endeavor because two alphas crying over a major character death from a highly competent independent film isn't a sight for anyone to see.

 

* * *

_And then forever on_

* * *

 

"You bastard! I told you I won't forgive you if you cheat on me!" Romano yells.

"And you asshole! I told you I'd never tolerate you flirting with anyone other than me!" America shouts in response.

"I never flirt with anyone, you bastard!" Romano hisses and bares his teeth. He feels the adrenaline surging through his veins as his instincts scream for him to fight, to rampage, to dominate. It's been one of those days in which his pent up energy and vitality as an alpha desires for release.

"I never cheat on you! And if you don't call what you're doing with Spain flirting, then I don't know what it is!" America, as it turns out, is the same.

"Fuck you, America! That tomato bastard is an alpha!"

"Fuck you too, Romano! I'm also an alpha, but that didn't stop you from flirting with me!"

As the room gets filled with thick and heavy tension and mental strain for different kinds of reasons, Romano glares at the already glaring America. He can feel the other's pheromones raging in and it's almost,  _almost_  getting in control of him. America's pheromones have always been strong and it can easily make anyone cower into submission. But he won't let that happen for Romano is an alpha as much as America is.

"At least I don't let any bastard's scent linger on me!"

America gasps, his rage wavering for a fleeting moment. "You said you believed me when I said it was an accident!"

And Romano does, honestly. But it's just so easy - almost feels like a necessity - to throw empty accusations when the intuitiveness of his fury is so overwhelming that he wants to howl in anger. He wants to start and engage in a brawl even though there really isn't anything to fight about and he wants to claim and contend even though who he longs to claim has already been his for a long time now.

Romano growls, America growls back, and the next thing they know, their bodies are pinning each other as their tongues fight for dominance. Romano pushes America against the wall and America maneuvers them in reverse to push Romano back in the same wall. America teases and Romano teases back. Romano bites and America bites back.

As it is, before they can even get to the point, Romano's lower lip is already bleeding and America's neck is already sporting a nasty bruise of a mark. But neither really minds.

 

* * *

_'Til life is gone_

* * *

 

Romano feels grumpy sitting at the counter of an old pub in London. He deliberately keeps his distance from the English bastard who's already too inebriated to be coherent. On his side is his stupid little brother conversing with the potato bastard, he ignores them, too.

What he can't ignore, however, is the jab that subtly being subjected to him as a few of the bastard nations talk among themselves in a not so sober manner.

"The experience I once had with an omega is really extraordinary."

" _Oui,_  I know what you mean. Omegas are a kind of their own. They're almost enchanting."

" _Sí,_  omegas are cute. They're irresistible."

" _Ja,_  omegas submit to you easily, unlike alphas."

" _Tá,_  omegas are really soft and pretty."

"Omegas are truly  _très bien_  more than anything."

Romano clicks his tongue in annoyance and chugs the remaining ale on his mug. It's Veneziano's fault for dragging him here after the EU conference despite his unwillingness. It's just one of their second nature to go drinking after the meeting and obviously, America is not invited because he is not a European country, and that ticks Romano more than a little bit especially now that he wants a comforting company.

"Omegas are probably the—"

"Shut the fuck up all of you bastards!" Romano doesn't remember when exactly has he stood, but he's currently pointing his irritation at the group of bastards talking about omegas and their supposedly extraordinary features. Oh, Romano strongly disagrees. "Tell you what, my _alpha_  is even more beautiful and enchanting and alluring and irresistibly adorable than any of your non-existent omegas!"

Silence permeated in the air as Romano evens his breathing. He directs the group another one of his glare and strides down the exit. As he walks, he faintly hears Spain and France chuckling and talking about winning a bet, but he's too out of it to go back and lash out again.

Once outside, he sighs as the fresh air hits his face. He misses America.

 

* * *

_I'll keep your loving near_

* * *

 

_"And now I've finally found my way_

_To lead me down this lonely road,"_

America's voice reverberates inside the house as he cleans while Romano cooks. He is so in a good mood, Romano can tell by the passionate way he pronounces every lyrics.

_"All I have yo do_

_Is follow you,"_

He comes to the kitchen, drawing closer to the counter where Romano is setting a bouillon aside. America holds out the feather duster - his improvised microphone - in front of Romano in a silent request to sing with him, but Romano refuses. "Go away, I'm cooking."

And yet, America doesn't budge. He smiles and stares directly at Romano's eyes, willing his soul to succumb to his charms. Romano hesitates.

" _To lighten off my load,_ " America sings earnestly, his voice so mellow and so captivating that Romano finally gives in.

But he doesn't sing, he doesn't take the spotlight from America. Instead, he grabs his phone and video records him as he continues to melt Romano's heart. Romano gives him his full and undivided attention from then on.

_"You treat me like a rose_

_You give me room to grow_

_You shone the light of love on me_

_And gave me air so I can breathe."_

Romano, despite himself, smiles so wide as he watches through the screen of his phone. America is giving him a full show with hand movements and intensely emotional rendition. This song has recently become one of America's craze ever since they found a cassette tape of A1 from his old basement and coincidentally, it's one of Romano's choices of song to dedicate to America.

_"You open doors that close_

_In a world where anything goes_

_You give me strength so I stand tall_

_Within this bed of earth_

_Just like a rose,"_  America finishes with sweet smile and offers him a single stem of red rose that he has been keeping on his back pocket. This is probably his plan all along.

Romano stops the recording, accepts the rose and lightly chuckles. He shortly glances at the rose and gives America a look. He realizes it, then, just how whipped he is with America. It's so cheesy, so sappy, and so very out of his character, yet his heart is swelling with too much affection for this man.

They may not have a bond that ties an ordinary alpha-omega couple, but Romano and America are bursting with unconditional and unreserved feelings for each other. They are not a destined pair - as their dynamics call it - but they are bound by deep-seated trust, overflowing affection and never-ending love, and that's more than what destiny can do.

 

* * *

_Just like a rose_

* * *

**...**

**_-KRIZZA-_ **

 

**Author's Note:**

> caro (It.) - dear / Sei l'unico per me. (It.) - You're the only one for me.


End file.
